MEOW!

mobile rules.

[felinives]

Selina mentioned in The Pengwing, SO…

[felinives]

People who can do multis are God's favorite

[bongjoonhoe]

Nathalie Emmanuel as Gwendoline in Army of Thieves (2021) dir. Matthias Schweighöfer

[jokemoved5thewrathofkhan]

Someone at the table has a neon green glow stick shooting through their Tijuana Punch. It’s been stinging the corner of his eye. Selina plays cat and mouse with the cocktail menu; half-using it as a shield and half for punctuation. He can’t read anything on it. A lavender overlay lines his jacket’s inseam. Were the lighting not so abysmal, he’d have taken a gander at the appetizers. Nix has been craving birria for months. He can smell it from a few tables over.

Their table will shake any second now should he keep bouncing his knee. Sokol whines and noses his master’s knee to still its tremble. When that fails, he displaces as much of his great weight to the right as he can and lays his cinder block head across Joker’s thigh. Werewolf turns his wrist up to smooth the dog’s head in languid strokes.

Laughter and conversation from nearby tables clutters his brain. More than a few sets of eyes lock on him. Even more whip their phones out.

The lunar craters in his wedding band toy with what little spangles of light will graze them. He follows two across the floor until the table next to them is reached. Strobing bass drops from the club and hookah bar continue to pummel his brain. The ache begins at his temples, then wraps around his head and settles behind his right eye. Joker suffers a harsh, smoky laugh and averts his eyes until a smoke screen protects him. He inflates his lungs with poison, holds, then keeps the wrist and that stick held to his lips to hide just how rehearsed his smile is. 

Squinting doesn’t aid him any. Two of Selina swish together, then wing back out. More fog drowns his vision. Joker bares teeth by grinning to hard and suffers a filthy laugh. It’s breathy, coarse, and fades with the plume that hangs before him.

“‘My wife’…” he echoes her inflections, “—has a name, Lina.” Joker clears his throat. The phlegm doesn’t break up, forcing his inhales to thin until the restaurant swirls. Static pushes in with tidal force. “Way less syllables than Cobblepot. Fairly easy to say,” he exaggerates widening his eyes, “So for that, you can humor me…” The sulky recessed light fixtures leave his eyes appearing backlit. “What connects me to old dead Carmine?” Before he lets that simmer, Joker slackens his jaw and taps the air with his cigarette, “Beyond the lowest common biological denominator, I mean.” Thomas Wayne. "Did I commit a crime?"

[felinives]

Selina snaps her gaze to Joker’s and takes on the look of a guilty party. Repentance turns her mouth down at the corners. She’s lowering the menu to square him with her full attention. Her full genuine apology too. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She smiles, a little, and inclines her head. “Nix. I know better.” And she does. Before she can make either of them more uncomfortable, thus breaking the fervor of her regret, Selina returns her regard to the list of drinks.

If she’s aware of the scrutiny around them, Selina is astutely ignoring it. She drags one clawed finger through the liquor options and then sits back in her seat fully. There are enough accidents throughout the city that a missing off-duty cop deposited in the back alley will probably go unnoticed until when next someone takes out the trash. Knowing this doesn’t put Selina at ease. She still glances around attentively and will continue to do so before the evening’s up.

“I’m not trying to accuse you of anything,” Selina asserts. She runs a finger around the rim of her water glass but it makes no sound. They probably wouldn’t hear it even if it did though. She strains for another try anyway with the same results. “I feel like I’m still trying to piece my life together. It’s like no matter what I’m doing, something new rolls into my path that I have to adjust for.” She makes an attempt to catch Joker’s eye. Whatever she’s suggesting might sit in her probing stare. “You know what I mean?” She has a feeling he does.

The waitress comes around for drink orders. Selina clocks the woman’s wandering gaze and too-wide smile and affords herself a snicker only after she’s requested a frozen margarita for herself. “Is that a you thing or a Wayne thing? Or is there not a difference anymore?” Her curiosity is strictly coincidental. Of course.

Selina lets her shoulders relax marginally. It takes effort but she manages an inch lower. She’s got her arms crossed though. “I have family in town,” she says between her teeth. “But I’m not so sure blood runs thicker than water in this case. Not with the pipes in this city.” Selina smiles and this time it’s real. Reaches her eyes. “Well, that and apparently not unless you’re a Wayne.”

[batgeance]

He’s  been  in  this  room  all  of  one  time  before  this  encounter.    Forced  to  attend  a  board  meeting  at  the  time,    he’d  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  and  thumbed  through  news  articles  on  his  phone  in  his  lap  without  listening.    It  was  his  first  and  last  invitation  to  play  -  act  his  way  through  figurehead  of  the  family  business;    that  had  been  ten  years  ago  and  they  still  hope  he’ll  get  over  this  reclusive  phase.    If  only  they  knew  how  he’d  just  put  this  room  to  use.  .  .

Bruce  sits  up  and  studies  her.    Trying  to  stop  her  forcefully  will  end  the  night  physically  painful,    so  he  waits  until  she’s  finished  dressing.    He  waits  until  she’s  already  trying  to  retreat.    ❝    Selina.    ❞  It’s  so  quiet  that  his  voice  fills  the  room  as  if  he’d  been  mic’d  up;    there’s  a  speaker  system  installed  in  the  ceiling  for  Zoom  calls,    a  recent  update  that  he  must  have  signed  off  on  at  some  point  yet  barely  remembers  the  installation  having  been  done.    Alfred  would  have  overseen  the  work  if  Bruce  had  been  sleeping  off  a  rough  night  gallivanting  across  Gotham.    That’s  the  likely  explanation.

She’s  keyed  up.    She  has  been  since  the  moment  he  intercepted  her  in  the  hall.    Whatever  she  came  for,    he’s  sure  she’ll  try  again  if  only  to  hurt  him.    He  can’t  say  that  he  blames  her,    but  he  doesn’t  have  to  like  it  or  allow  it  without  a  fight.    She’s  trying  to  flee,    but  Bruce  slides  off  the  table  and  rises  to  his  full  height,    adjusting  his  pants  as  he  crosses  the  short  distance  to  follow  her.

At  the  door,    her  only  exit  unless  she  plans  to  rappel  60  stories  to  the  street,    he  steps  around  her  profile.    Bruce  doesn’t  press  his  hand  to  the  frame,    but  this  close,    he  figures  his  request  is  clear.    Fury  brightens  her  eyes  in  the  dark  of  the  room  and  he  keeps  his  attention  there  instead  of  the  shape  of  his  teeth  blooming  against  her  collar  where  she  hasn’t  finished  zipping  up  her  suit.    ❝    Where  are  you  staying?    Your  old  place  is  gone,    you  know.    ❞

[felinives]

She might just prefer that 60 story drop to another second enduring the grate of his voice. Selina stiffens when he says her name and hates herself for it. Hates him more for it too. When they reinstate eye contact, hers is brimming with fire. She hopes he can feel it. Better he feels her ire than her hurt. She’d like to put that feeling to bed even more than she’d like to scold herself for heeding his unspoken requests, both the want for her attention and her lingering, but she’ll settle for juggling both if only because it feels all the more productive.

Selina straightens to her full height but he’s still got several inches on her. The lighting in the conference room shades him like he still dons that cowl. It can’t protect her from the bright of his eyes even in the dark. She can put those eyes to his real face now. It infuriates her. “I’m not staying here, if that’s what you’re getting at.” The amusement in her voice is vicious. If he wants to treat her with condescension, she’ll return it in kind enough to disabuse him of trying it again.

It feels like so long ago, but not long enough as it were, that she’d almost wanted to know what she knows now. Ignorance is bliss. What an idiot, the both of them. Bruce draws close enough to steal all the cold in the room, all the liminal light too, and Selina holds her ground out of spite alone. Without his mask, he is just as moody and drawn into himself. More so, actually. Revealed now as he is, she can see how he still wears his brooding like armor.

“Unless you wanted another go.” Selina lifts a hand so as to draw her clawed fingers along the path between his waistband and navel. She hadn’t zipped herself up to the throat and now she thinks that’s probably for the best. The indentation of his teeth and the bruise beneath isn’t the only thing open for his perusal if he wanted to drop his gaze. Selina bares her teeth for him. “I know I said not again, but... Well maybe I was lying. If you ask me nicely. Does Bruce Wayne have those paid-for finishing school manners?”

[felinives]

Something I really like about this portrayal of Selina is how much she cares about people? Apparently that's really atypical for her as a character. But she puts herself in harm's way again and again in TBM22 for people which definitely is not self-serving like Selina is usually written

[felinives]

I'm thinking specifically about how she cares about Annika as much as she cares about her revenge against her father. But I don't think that her having a connection to Annika discounts her being someone who cares. You could argue that she doesn't even really know the Batman but still teamed up with him.

[felinives]

Something I really like about this portrayal of Selina is how much she cares about people? Apparently that's really atypical for her as a character. But she puts herself in harm's way again and again in TBM22 for people which definitely is not self-serving like Selina is usually written

[jokemoved5thewrathofkhan]

A pop of cherry red's produced from his pant pocket before he moves to open the door. Joker drops a pin at Little Tijuana for Nix to track from her phone. By sleight of hand he collects his lighter and cigarette carton from Selina. One stick hangs from his teeth already. Joker drops the contraband back in his coat pocket and clucks his tongue for Sokol to step aside enough for Selina to enter first. She’s the one with the reservation. Doubtless his face alone could free up a few tables.

It’s surprisingly modern and TikTok-trendy on the inside: damp illumine unless one requests the wisteria-blanketed rooftop patio, wall-to-wall authentic Mexican artwork with price tags on most should visitors wish to purchase something, and pulsing bass drops from the DJ’s set in the lounge. None but Joker seem to mind how harsh that beat can get. He tugs his ear and vexes his jaw as if those motions could magically shake the static from his brain.

Once Selina crosses the threshold, he slips in like a specter and shadows her as they approach the hostesses at their podium. Wait staff wears all black and are masked-up to try and dodge the latest Covid strain. With his charred lungs, Joker should be as well. The hostess neither reprimands him for having a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth nor entering with a big black wolf-dog bigger than some humans at his side. That sky-blue harness spells out Sokol's function anyway. 

“If this is the place I think it is...” the one Nix showed him from social feeds in a subliminal attempt to get him to take her, “The portions are huge. B-But there’s a ‘blood’ margarita that’s been on Nixie's radar.” Smoke stacks vent from his nostrils. No one in the restaurant cares for the fact that he’s smoking, rather, they’ve snapped him with another woman who isn't his beloved wife and are preparing to post with crude hashtags. “I’ll know when I see it.” 

[felinives]

Selina’s table waits patiently for her as if she’d only just left to freshen up. By all rights, she’s done the exact opposite. Her glass of water still has a lipstick print the color of pitless dark cherries on the rim from when she’d feigned a sip. When she sits across from Joker now, she takes a real pull and rubs her retreating thumb and fingers together when condensation sticks to them. Her eyes bounce anxiously between the exit and the waitress going by who she can’t tell looks at her new company rather than Selina herself.

Joker’s service dog doesn’t help her nerves. Selina rubs her palms down the length of her thighs beneath the table to dispel any natural dampness. Outsiders might assume she fixes the folds in her pants rather than self soothes. She tips back in her seat to force a limper posture just to really sell it, but retains her hypervigilance without drifting her eyes away from the man seated across from her.

“Blood margarita, huh?” Selina plucks up the smaller menu and scans it, this time with the intention to order rather than to fake it before heading out back to drop a cop. She hums now. “You can make it spicy,” she relays from behind her makeshift privacy screen. She lowers it to smile conspiratorially at the eldest Wayne brother, but there’s reservation in what she’d fostered as a friendly demeanor. It sits in her eyes when he breaks that contact first. “Or skinny.”

Selina holds her menu by the tips of her thumbs, balancing it mostly on her fingers curled tightly around the cover. Dozens of questions whet her tongue, most of which she can’t ask Joker in their current setting. She barely manages to leash them, restraining herself mostly only when that waitress goes by again. She can’t hold on tight enough to one and lowers her voice to accommodate the ears they undoubtedly gather. “You weren’t involved with all that shit with Falcone two years ago, right? I mean, your wife and Cobblepot…” Selina shakes her head as if to clear it. “Not to mention–” Now she bites her tongue on a grimace and drops her unseeing eyes back to the menu. But only briefly. She rallies for Joker’s attention again. “I guess there’s some weight to keeping your enemies closer. Right?”

[batgeance]

It  does  hurt.    The  only  reason  his  brains  aren’t  splattered  across  the  deck  is  in  thanks  to  the  way  he  landed,    tucked  in  against  himself  with  his  arms  raised  in  defense.    How  he  had  the  foresight  to  manage  the  maneuver  amidst  all  of  this,    who’s  to  say.    The  suit  absorbed  most  of  the  impact  from  the  fall,    but  he  can  feel  it  in  his  joints.    Every  hinge  protests  every  movement  and  it  takes  a  herculean  amount  of  willpower  to  avoid  going  fetal.    His  cape’s  twisted  around  itself,    too,    the  fabric  rejecting  knotting  or  tearing  and  bunching  beneath  his  spine.    The  cowl  is  somewhere  amongst  the  shit  and  trash  on  either  side  of  him.

The  Batman  rolls  onto  his  hands  and  knees,    and  ignores  the  way  his  skull  feels  loose  beneath  his  skin.    Ringing  started  mid  -  flight,    but  now  it’s  a  dull  screaming.    Selina  in  his  periphery  is  all  shadows;    he  can  only  just  make  out  the  shine  of  her  eyes  if  he  focuses  hard  enough.    It  hurts  to  squint  at  her.    His  energy  is  spent  instead  on  reorienting  himself  on  ground  level.

She’d  sent  him  over  the  edge  herself  with  one  swift  kick  to  the  gut.    Another  time,    he  would  have  dodged  or  caught  her  by  the  ankle  and  swept  her  off  balance.    Unmasked  and  in  the  open  though,    and  faced  with  her  immediate  fury  weaponized  against  him,    his  reflexes  took  the  brunt  of  that  relapse.    Even  now,    he  struggles.    When  he  pushes  himself  upright,    he  doesn’t  know  if  she  wavers  in  front  of  him  or  if  he  sways  against  gravity.    Either  way,    it  exacerbates  the  pain  blooming  all  over.

❝    What  were  you  doing  here?    ❞  The  Detective  wields  the  sandpaper  -  quality  of  his  voice  in  spite  of  his  reveal.    In  this  alcove,    they  are  hidden  away  enough  that  there  is  a  chance  nothing  catches  the  secret,    but  there’s  no  trusting  these  shadows.    She’s  tucked  away  into  one  anyway.    He  ducks  his  chin  against  his  shoulder  and  glances  back  in  search  of  the  cowl.    It’s  too  dark.    She  swims  in  his  sights  once  more.    ❝    Tailing  me?    ❞

[felinives]

His movement sends her shrinking further away down the wall. She isn’t afraid of him, but she isn’t feeling at all trusting either. He wields himself too quickly to be concussed. Selina won’t take any chances. The Batman, Bruce, whoever he is, looks lost without his helm. Like a little boy who’s just had his toys snatched out of his hands and can’t decide if crying will help his case. Expensive toys make for expensive tears. She’d like to see him try it. Her sympathy’s long been sapped out, least of all for a trust fund ass like Bruce fucking Wayne.

“You don’t get to ask questions,” Selina snaps at him. There’s a fine layer of mist hanging over the alleyway. It’s a pocket wide enough to soak them but it’s likely the clouds cover the entire island. Tomorrow morning will come and this side street might just be half flooded. The southern half of the city still holds a swell of the sea big enough to float dinghies rather than cars.

The Batman’s still looking for his mask. It won’t switch off the face he wears now. Not for Selina. She can still see the shock, and then the grim resignation, that had tightened the skin around his mouth and eyes before she’d kicked him off the roof above. Likely that’ll tumble around in her mind for days. That pisses her off just about as much as the whole damn night does. She debates crossing the canyon to find his cowl just so she can kick it out of his reach.

“You know, I fuckin’ knew it. I fuckin’ knew who you were and I just– I still– What is this? What the fuck are you doin’ anyway? Dressin’ up like a fuckin’– Is this how you get your kicks? Feels real good helpin’ out the fuckin’ needy except you’re not. You’re not even–” Her exhale is audible and humored, something like a laugh if any of this was funny. Maybe it is. Maybe she’ll laugh later. Or maybe she’ll feel better pushing him off another roof again. “You’re a real piece of fuckin’ work. Jesus Christ. Fuck you.”

[banschivs]

A plume of pallid cigarette smoke exits between her pursed lips. She watches that stream lift above her head and disperse into Gotham preternatural yet consistent blanket of smog. The cylinder she's perched between the fingers of her left hand had been meant for Arthur, who despite the way his nerves jump and rattle for withdrawal, was snared too tightly in recent widower, Solomon Crowne's, droning conversation. Everyone at The Orchard Hotel this evening craves a piece of the Wayne heir, who's rumoured to soon be collapsing the music industry beneath his heel. His wife is a lone waif on the stone steps outside.

She'd eyed the nigh-imperceptible snatch of the woman's bracelet as she'd entered into the old Hotel's sickening decadence, while impressed. Her brows made for her hairline and her teeth flashed, revealing those whetted metal fangs everyone inside would prefer for her to hide. The Court loathes the animal of her, yet welcomes a wolf painted as a clown thoroughly into their midst. Nix likely looks to Selina to be just another participant in the gaudy reception inside; pearl-adorned, wrapped in a red dress she didn't pick, her cheeks pink for wine. Despite that, the undoubtful swathe of onlookers snap Skizm's Killer Queen on their phones as an outcast on the step-way.

She flashes her company a dour look, expressing even in her silence that the turn of blame would come as no surprise, then she steals for herself another long drag. Does nothing for her, and yet she'll waste the entire pack of twenty should her husband not emerge to claim them. One the exhale, she finally pulls her voice back.

" You heading inside? " She wouldn't get very far, at least not through any door. Something tells her that wouldn't be a problem. Nix's brows bounce when she gestures with a swing of her head inside. " There's basically a whole fucking banquet in there for you. All you can eat. "

[felinives]

Reef sharks are kinder than the predators that facilitate bullshit in the hall at Nix’s back. Isn’t it funny what they say about monsters? You can look them in the face and never realize what’s looking back at you. Selina’s used to those stories. Gotham’s got enough nightmare fuel to waste a grown man, but then that’s just any other big city. New York to the east of them has enough of its own. Selina had touched those halfassed paveways in a roundtrip back here to hell and still found them lacking quite as ugly fumes as Jersey’s dank island.

Selina hefts a hip, and a sizable pocket of tradeable diamonds in her hidden pocket, to one side. Nests a hand there, thumb tucked into the waistline of her smart trousers. She’s donned a costume for the occasion, a trim three piece suit the color of ripe eggplant. Her wig’s long past her shoulders and black and pinstraight. She might almost fit in at this party except for the depth of her gaze which has no lack of shark hunger but suits a different breed.

“Couldn’t find what I was looking for.” Selina tips her head and eyes her witness with inscrutable interest. When she cants her chin nigh centimeters on a swivel to the left, she can see Joker half listening to whatever’s being sold to him. Selina knows almost every person inside. She’s served drinks and drops to over half of them, some on more than one occasion. Joker wears his face, but that’s not what Others him.

“Looks like you’ll be waitin’ awhile.” The parade up those steps would pose a jeering assembly line for either one of them. A funeral dirge for Nix undoubtedly. A battle fit for war for Selina, who’s returned to looking at her fellow outcast with unchecked scrutiny. “You get off on caviar and saltines? Or is it full Michelin courses for the Wayne’s tonight?”

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue  prompts  taken  from  the  batman  (2022),  directed  by  matt  reeves.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.  ) 

❛ two years of nights have turned me into a nocturnal animal. ❜

❛ it’s a big city. i can’t be everywhere. ❜

❛ fear is a tool. ❜

❛ the hell are you supposed to be? ❜

❛ i’m vengeance. ❜

❛ what does a liar do when he’s dead? he lies still. ❜

❛ happy fuckin’ halloween. ❜

❛ i wish i could say i’m making a difference, but i don’t know. ❜

❛ the city’s eating itself. maybe it’s beyond saving. but i have to try. ❜

❛ you’re becoming quite a celebrity. ❜

❛ have a shower. ❜

❛ if this continues, it won’t be long before you’ve nothing left. ❜

❛ if i can’t change things here, if i can’t have an effect, then i don’t care what happens to me. ❜

❛ you’re not my father. ❜

❛ some fresh berries there. ❜

❛ oh, this guy’s hilarious. ❜

❛ get out of here. you hear me? or that little suit’s gonna get all full of blood. ❜

❛ take it easy, sweetheart. ❜

❛ boy, you’re everything they say, ain’t ya? ❜

❛ you got a lot of cats. ❜

❛ i have a thing about strays. ❜

❛ you’re not safe here. ❜

❛ i can take care of myself. ❜

❛ hey, why am i starting to feel like a fish on a hook? ❜

❛ boy, you’re a real sweetheart. ❜

❛ look at me. ❜

❛ that’s one of the guys i got into it with the other night. looks like i broke his nose. ❜

❛ is bruce wayne making an actual appearance? ❜

❛ serial killers like to follow reactions to their crimes. ❜

❛ you have to keep up appearances. you’re still a wayne. ❜

❛ i’ve been trying to reach you. ❜

❛ i’m giving you a chance. no one ever gave me a chance. ❜

❛ it can be cruel poetic or blind. but when it’s denied, it’s violence you may find. ❜

❛ if you are justice, please do not lie. what is the price for your blind eye? ❜

❛ since your justice is so select, tell us which vermin you’re paid to protect. ❜

❛ is this how you get your kicks, hon? sneaking up on girls in the dark? ❜

❛ what the hell is this? good cop, batshit cop? ❜

❛ no habla español, fellas? ❜

❛ jesus. his next victim is bruce wayne. ❜

❛ wasn’t sure i’d see you again. ❜

❛ was it worth it? compromising yourself for money? ❜

❛ who are you under there? what are you hiding? are you just hideously scarred? ❜

❛ i told you, baby. i can take care of myself. ❜

❛ do you know who i am? ❜

❛ i could see the fear in your eyes, but i didn’t know how to help. ❜

❛ i could teach you how to fight, but i wasn’t equipped to take care of you. ❜

❛ you needed a father. and all you had was me. ❜

❛ i never thought i’d feel fear like that again. ❜

❛ come on, vengeance. let’s go kill that son of a bitch. ❜

❛ listen to me. don’t throw your life away. ❜

❛ don’t worry, honey. i got nine of ’em. ❜

❛ whatever i know, whatever i’ve done, it’s all going with me to my grave. ❜

❛ i just ordered a slice of pumpkin pie. ❜

❛ my life has been a cruel riddle i could not solve. ❜

❛ i know now what i must become. ❜

❛ if only you knew how long i’ve been waiting for this day. for this moment. ❜

❛ god. look at you. your mask is amazing. i wish you could’ve seen me in mine. ❜

❛ you and i both know i’m looking at the real you right now. ❜

❛ i told you, we’ve been doing this together. you’re a part of this. ❜

❛ we didn’t do anything together. ❜

❛ this is not how this was supposed to go! ❜

❛ oh, you’re really not as smart as i thought you were. ❜

❛ what’s black and blue and dead all over? you. ❜

❛ i can already see things will get worse before they get better. ❜

❛ people need hope. to know someone’s out there for them. ❜

❛ one day you’re on top, the next… you’re a clown. ❜

❛ gotham loves a comeback story. ❜

❛ riddle me this… the less of them you have, the more one is worth. ❜

❛ don’t you ever just say hello? ❜

❛ you know this place is never gonna change. ❜

❛ the bat and the cat. it’s got a nice ring. ❜

❛ take care of yourself. ❜

[felinives]

[felinives]

a cat burglar who is good at grand escapes 🤝 a billionaire who refuses to leave his hometown (they're in love)

[luthienne]

Natasha Trethewey, from Thrall: Poems; "The Americans"

[felinives]

so... we're just not going to address that?

Just hours ago she had every intention to canvas the Tower and nothing else. The best jobs took the longest prep and this job, she swears, will have the best payout and there is absolutely nothing bitter about this angle. He wasn’t even supposed to be home and even if he was... Well she should have known better. So maybe her anger is blinding her a little bit to reason. Only now it isn’t just anger that’s got her fucked up.

Bruce Wayne is half undressed and sprawled on his back in the middle of what she is realizing is some sort of conference room. Figures that a billionaire would have such a space in his fucking home. He’s missing his shirt, lost somewhere in the shuffle from the hall where he’d cornered her snooping, but his pants are still on. Laid back on the long table with his chest rising and falling in time to the thundering pulse in her throat, he almost looks very young. Boyish.

Selina ducks for the floor in pursuit of her own pants. Possibly to force herself to stop staring too. He’d gotten her out of everything and that fact pisses her the fuck off all over again. Almost as much as his accusation. When she half stands to work the pleather over her calveskneesthighs, he’s pushed himself up to his elbows and watches her. Even with the dark of the room, only Gotham’s skyline lit up behind him in applause of its princeling, she can see his eyes and easily picture the cowl accompanying them. Fucking idiot.

“Honey, if you need a play by play of what we just did, maybe we shouldn’t have done it.” It’s easier to give him nothing now. She will enjoy ripping the rug of satisfaction out from underneath him. Selina stands up straight, rolls her shoulders back and watches Bruce’s gaze plummet. He catches himself but not quick enough. Selina smiles slow and lecherous and cruel when he looks her in the eye again. “It won’t happen again. No address needed.”

☾ CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED?

[felinives]

give me a heads up next time.

Gotham nightlife is teeming with death as much as it is with life and it’s usually best to avoid it at all cost unless you’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve. Or claws. Selina happens to wield both and successfully disarms a man twice her size. He’s blocking her entrance to her latest grab, standing in front of a window to block the lovely view. Gotham’s weather is fair tonight which means the smoke rings in the sky are visible and seemingly hanging low.

His unconscious body is a pain in the ass to yank through the sill but he’d fallen backwards into it and that was good enough leverage for Selina. Leaving a trail isn’t ideal but what choice did she have?

She’s in and out in under half an hour. She’ll celebrate that PR when she isn’t being heckled by Sira or attempting an escape with a few extra pounds of jewels stuffed into her backpack. It hangs low on her back from that added weight but she shuffles quickly on light feet. Selina makes hardly a sound. Neither does Sira. “Right.” Her voice is less than a whisper. Her eyes speak louder than she can otherwise express. Selina deftly slips a ruby into the other’s hand with finesse but no fanfare. “Hey, there was a guy in my way. Had to take him out. Better?”

☾ CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED?

[royalbluefairydust]

nathalie emmanuel at vogue world: london 2023 on sept 14, 2023